U.S. Cruiser San Diego Sunk Off Fire Island -- July 19, 2018

New York Tribune, 20-July-1918

The armored cruiser USS San Diego was launched as the USS California.  She was renamed San Diego in 1914 to free her old name for a dreadnought battleship.  One hundred years ago today, she was sunk by mines laid by a German submarine.  San Diego was the only major US ship lost after the country entered the war. There was not a firefight.

U-Boat Sinks Big U.S. Cruiser Off New York

San Diego, Hit By Torpedo, Goes Down Fighting

Battle With Camouflaged Submarine Occurs 8 Miles Off Fire Island

Many Lives Lost; Hundreds Rescued

Quartermaster, Left Aboard, Salutes Comrades as Boats Depart, Then Dies

The United States cruiser San Diego was sunk eight miles off Fire Island at 11:10 o'clock yesterday morning in a battle -with a German submarine. The vessel was torpedoed amidships during a fierce fight at close range, listed and went down within fifteen minutes after she was struck.

The number of men killed in the explosion of the magazine and boilers, and who went down with the sinking ship, was not known at a late hour last night. Thirty-five survivors who landed in lifeboats at Point o' Woods said that a number were lost, one or two estimating the casualties at 300 or more.

One of the men, a member of the ship's starboard gun crew, declared he and his comrades continued to blaze away at the submarine after the deck was awash. He insisted he saw one of the shells strike forward of the submarine's periscope and she immediately disappeared.

Barrel Conceals Periscope

According to the story of the rescued sailors the attacking submarine disguised her presence by concealing the periscope under a floating barrel. The lookout noticed that the barrel was moving toward him against the tide, grew suspicious and sounded the alarm.

When the attack came the gun crews fired at the barrel, but it is believed the U-boat already had dived. The majority of sailors on the vessel were recent naval recruits. Stories of coolness and heroism were told by the survivors. All stayed by their posts.

Several explosions were reported, the boilers going first and the magazines blowing up a few seconds later. The ship heaved up clear out of the water and then immediately began to settle. One of the most heroic deaths was that of a quartermaster, who had been ordered to stand on the bridge while the men were being sent to the boats. This officer stayed at his post until it wag too late for him to save himself or be saved.

Salutes as Ship Goes Down

Just as the San Diego was going down, the quartermaster turned, facing to the sea where hundreds of his comrades were in boats and in the sea, and calmly saluted. The last seen of him the ship was going down and he was still at salute.

There was no excitement after the explosions. The men were piped to their battle stations and life belts were quietly donned. The gunners stood by to the last, fighting waist deep in the water that washed up over the sloping decks. It was feared that several of them were carried down by the sinking ship.

The captain and the first officers stayed until the ship made her final plunge. It was reported that the engine room crew was trapped below and lost to a man.

The Navy Department early this morning received information that two steamships, which are proceeding to an unnamed port, have aboard 1,1S6 officers and men of the United States cruiser San Diego. These are in addition to the one officer and thirty men previously reported landed.

If this should prove true, it would leave only fifty-eight men unaccounted for.

Other Ships Reported Attacked

The men are said to be in good condition. So far as is known none was injured.

There also were reports last night, though not confirmed, that other ships had been attacked, one being described as a coastwise passenger ship.

The coastwise steamer is reported in marine circles to-day as having sent out wireless signals of distress on account of a submarine attack, had among her passengers a detachment of marine recruits. She carried a large quantity of freight.

Intermittent cannonading was heard all day and evening along the coast, causing intense excitement among the villages within radius of the sound. Residents believe generally that the San Diego encountered enemy raiders early in the morning and was torpedoed after a sharp engagement.

A dispatch from Washington stated that information from reliable sources indicated that a submarine flotilla is operating off the port of New York. Rumors that the San Diego had collided with another ship or struck a mine were discounted.

Coast guard patrols sighted a submarine off Fire Island between 10 and 10:30 a. m., according to persistent reports at Bayshore. A half hour later the guns were heard.

Cause Not Stated

Telegraphic reports from Washington failed to determine the cause of, the vessel's sinking. The Navy Department earlier in the day issued this statement:

"The Navy Department has received reports from the 3d Naval District stating that the U. S. S. San Diego was sunk ten miles southeast of Fire Island at 11:30 o'clock this morning. One officer and two boat's crews were landed at Life Saving Station 81, on Long Island. Other survivors are in boats, and four steamers are standing by.

"So far as it can be ascertained there appears to have been no loss of life. The cause of the sinking has not yet been ascertained."

Residents of Point of Woods, on the south shore of Long Island, said an aviator had landed there with a story of hundreds of sailors struggling in the water as he circled overhead. The aviator telegraphed to the wireless station at Sayville. and a S O S call sent a half dozen vessels to the scene of the disaster.

Thirty sailors, one lieutenant and one ensign made Fire Island in life boats, landing at a point about eight miles from Point of Woods. Telephone communication with shore has been taken over by government officials, and civilian residents were unable to learn the story of the survivors.

Explosions at Sea Heard 

Citizens of Bay Shore and Babylon heard explosions at sea early in the morning, which were described as sounding like heavy gunfire. The fact that submarines have been expected off the coast was made known by orders issued to masters of coastwise vessels within the last few days, warning them to steer as close to shore as safety permitted.

All the boats at the naval training station at Sayville were sent across Great South Bay to Fire Island Beach, according to a report. It was understood that these boats had been assigned to transfer rescued survivors from the island to the mainland. None had returned last night.

Inquirers who besieged the naval station and the headquarters of the Third District for information were all referred to Washington.

Measures to deal with a new U-boat raid were said to have been taken promptly by naval and military officers. Flotillas of destroyers and patrol boats were reported to be scouring the waters in the vicinity of New York Harbor. Later in the day airplanes joined in the extending search.

Airmen Hunt for U-Boats 

When the first news of the disaster reached the aviation field at Hempstead, the student fliers stampeded for the hangars. Every available machine was manned, and the squadron proceeded across Long Island and turned out to sea in a hunt both for survivors and lurking submarines.

A thick mist bung over the ocean all day, adding to the difficulties of the rescuers.

The members of all the boat crews at the Fire Island and Oak Island coast guard stations put to sea early in the afternoon, and none had returned, at a late hour last night. The men were said to be assisting in the transfer and rescue of sailors from the sunken ship.

It was reported in marine circles that wireless calls for help had been picked up by coastwise steamers, and all within radius proceeded at full speed toward the point where the vessel sunk, which was located definitely a short distance off Cherry Grove.

Hundreds Rescued 

The crews of incoming vessels declared later in the day that they had passed rescue ships at sea with hundreds of survivors aboard. Several tankers and one naval vessel were declared to have joined the searching flotilla. One tanker reached Quarantine late last night, but the survivors were not landed.

A return of the undersea raiders has not been unexpected. The sinkings in May and June had forewarned the navy against the possibility of future attacks. The sinking of a war vessel, however, had not been anticipated.

The San Diego is the first major naval vessel the nation has lost since the beginning of the war. Nothing but coastwise vessels were victims of the submarine flotilla that visited American waters earlier in the year, and only destroyers and submarines have been successfully attacked in the war zones.

The vessel itself is not regarded as a serious military loss, and naval officers were more concerned about the probable casualty list.

Preparations have been made at the United States Base Hospital at Fox Hills, Staten Island, to receive wounded men. The authorities there were not certain whether these belonged to the crew of the San Diego, although it was considered highly probable.

Firing Preceded Explosions 

In elaborating on the story of the firing they had heard off shore, residents of Bay Shore stated that there had been a few shots at first, and later a series of heavy explosions, as though a vessel were blowing up. There was silence for several hours, and then the firing broke out again. This continued all of the afternoon and into the evening, and indicated that patrol boats may have brought a submarine to bay.

Outside of the firing a veil of mystery concealed the events that were taking place at sea. The story told the villagers by the aviator who flew over the scene of the sinking, however, was reported by credible witnesses.

The aviator was flying along the coast when his attention was attracted by the report of guns. He turned off his course in the direction of the sounds and a few miles off shore found himself hovering over a naval vessel which was awash with the waves and on the point of settling.

He wheeled above in the air for a while in an effort to make out some point of land through the fog that would help him in marking down the exact location of the sinking ship. In the meanwhile the vessel went under and the aviator later described the scene below him of sailors floundering in the water and clinging to boats and life rafts.

He turned back to shore and came down in an open field in the outskirts of the village of Point o' Woods. As soon as he had telegraphed his news to the nearby wireless station he left the village and his identity was not ascertained.

Several residents declared the aviator had told them of sighting a submarine on his return trip to land.

The San Diego served for many years as the flagship of the Pacific fleet. She and other craft of her type have been' used in convoy work, although classified as of no service in fleet maneuvers. She carried an armored belt, fore and aft extending above and below the water line. This belt was five inches thick. The armament consisted of four 8-inch guns, fourteen 6-inch guns and eighteen .3-inch rapid firers. Her cost is estimated at $5,341,754.

U-boats appeared east of Cape Race a week ago, sank the schooner Manxman and unsuccessfully attacked other vessels. It is believed that these submarines continue to lurk in American waters.

The San Diego was southward bound from the Portsmouth (N. H.) Navy Yard when she was sunk, running her course in near the shore. She was commanded by Captain H. H. Christy, and had a compliment of 51 officers 1,030 enlisted men and 63 marines. The vessel formerly was the California, but was rechristened when the dreadnought of that name was launched. She was an old type vessel, laid down in 1902, and was not equipped with the newer devices of protection against submarines. Her speed was twenty-two knots.

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San Diego Colors, Saved by Survivor, Cheered by Crowd 

By William J. Carver 

POINT O'WOODS, Long Island, Jul. 19. -- The first men to reach shore from the cruiser San Diego, sunk ten miles off the coast and nearly opposite this place, landed here at 3:15 o'clock this afternoon. They rowed ashore in twelve lifeboats.

Many of them were nearly naked none more than half clothed. One carried a bundle, held tightly beneath his arm. As the lifeboat grounded on the sandy beach he was the first to sprint into the water and stagger up beyond the reach of the surf.

Then, while willing hands were helping his companions from the two small boats, he slowly unwrapped the bundle and shook out into the breeze the color of the San Diego. The effect was magnetic.

Many of the sailors, as it was learned later, had been in the water for hours before being dragged into the boats All were tired, hungry and thirsty Many could scarcely stand. Yet, a sight of the strip of bunting, every man stiffened to attention, and another instant, fairly shattered the air with cheers, half exultant, half defiant. For an instant, theirs were the only voices heard. Then the several hundred summer visitors who live, either at the hotel or the cottages, took up the shout. Another instant and this sailor reverently folded the flag, and with an ensign at his side, led the handful of survivors up the beach, two by two. and singing "The Star-Spangled Banner" as they marched.

Thirty-five Men Reach Shore

Thirty-five men in all came ashore Six were officers, the others members of the crew. They had started ahead of the other boats to make the nearest point of land and give the first complete tidings of the disaster, as well as to summon aid for their companions.

Their arrival had been anticipated by the summer Folk. Shortly after 11 o'clock the sound of firing and one tremendous explosion had given ample warning that, something unusual was taking place off shore.

All through the rest of the day the shore was lined with members of the summer colony. Most of them had no other aid in their eager scanning of the sea than the shade they secured from a hand over their eyes. Some few, however, had binoculars. And it was these who first gave word that far out on the ocean were two small boats headed here.

As the two lifeboats broke into the surf and dropped down into a roller one moment, only to be lifted high the next, on wild shouts of encouragement after another greeted the men pulling at the oars.

Scores rushed out well into the surf to meet the incoming boats. As the keel of one and then the other grated on the sand eager hands laid hold and rushed them high up on the beach.

Food Awaits Sailors

Most of the men were wet to the skin. Those on shore whipped off coats and sweaters to wrap around them. Up at the hotel big pots of coffee and huge piles of sandwiches had been prepared at the first word of the approaching boats.

Escorted by practically the entire summer colony, the thirty-five survivors went to the hotel. There, fitted out with warm, dry clothing and still carrying sandwiches in their hands, the men asked for the telegraph office. Their first thought was to get a message off to their homes.

Hundreds on the San Diego were naval reserve men, only recently assigned to the ship. Many came from California.

Despite the willingness of the men to tell what they could of the loss of the San Diego, it was clear that they had only a partial knowledge of the events that had taken place themselves .Of one thing they were certain -- a submarine had sunk their ship.

Several of the men declared they had seen the U-boat. Two of them, members of a gun crew, declared they had shot at it, and one was certain he had seen at least one direct hit scored.

The officers, however, were not certain whether it had been a torpedo or a mine which accounted for their vessel. They said that the huge cloud of smoke which spread out over the water an instant after the explosion made it almost impossible to tell what had sent the ship down.

Although they had only a brief moment to sense the extent of the disaster. the men this, afternoon expressed the opinion that at least three hundred of their companions had been lost. They waited around the telegraph office and the telephone most of the afternoon, anxious for definite word.

Discipline Is Perfect

Discipline on the boat, every man agreed, had been perfect. They were making ready for the shore leave that had just been granted them at the moment of the explosion. Some were shaving, some, bathing, most only half dressed and all planning just how they were going to spend the free hours in town. Then came the explosion.

The San Diego floated for at least fifteen minutes after the explosion. Every one of the 1,114 members of the crew had dashed to their posts within a few seconds after the shock. They stayed there until ordered into the boats.

The gun crews were the last to leave the ship, and some of them were forced to dive into the sea, so fast did the big cruiser go down during the last minutes it remained afloat.

Many of the sailors stood at their positions along the decks until they became flush with the water, and then calmly stepped off and swam until picked up by the boats which had been launched in perfect order and without a hitch.

All through the afternoon the two lifeboats lay side by side on the beach. The sailors were hurried to the hotel and the cottages and made as comfortable as possible. Back from the men to the boats and then back again to the hotel, the summer visitors wandered in an endless procession.

Hour after hour every pair of binoculars in this place swept the sea, the owner of each eager to be the first to discover the next boat that came in. No more arrived, however, through the afternoon, but the watchers were rewarded along toward the middle of the afternoon by the sight of five tankers which swept past the shore line in single file, the decks of two of them crowded with white-clad sailors believed beyond doubt to have been other survivors from the warship.

As the afternoon wore on and word came that they were to be taken on board a navy patrol the men, with the people here, spent the time in watching the seaplanes and dirigibles which shot out to sea to lend a hand at rescue or possibly take a shot at a U-boat.